by Jayne Blue
“Sorry, birthday boy,” she said. “I take no prisoners.”
Her laughter cut through me. She was dressed modestly in her company t-shirt. She had on jeans and those worn red cowboy boots. She wasn’t like the other chicks in this place. They were dressed to draw attention to themselves.
A cheer went up as Ariel grabbed a full mug of beer and started to chug it. They were egging her on. Six of them. She stood in the middle of all of them and I wanted to murder everyone. They were her crew. Each of them wore the same Gatling Co. t-shirt Ariel had on. In some back corner of my mind, I could have seen this scene for what it really was. She was one of the guys, a big sister to some of them, a boss to all of them. It was the creeps toward the back wall I had more cause to worry about. They stared at Ariel with predatory intent. Fuck, I knew that look. I owned that look.
Ariel slammed her beer down to a chorus of cheers. She raised a hand and a skinny kid with big doe eyes gave her a high five. This was the birthday boy. He staggered sideways, spilling his beer. If I had to guess, this was a special birthday for him. Twenty-one. He couldn’t hold his booze for shit.
“Rack ’em up!” Ariel shouted. She swayed on her feet. Teetering sideways, a hand shot out to catch her. It was one of the watchers from the back, not one of the Gatling crew. He snaked an arm around Ariel’s waist and twirled her into a little two-step as the jukebox blared one of the top forty country hits. I hated that shit. Give me the old stuff any day.
“Oh, we’re dancing?” Ariel said. Her back stiffened and her hands went up. The guy didn’t take the hint. He was too drunk to pick up on her cues. He nuzzled his chin against Ariel’s shoulder and twirled her away from the pool table.
A look passed between the Gatling crew as if they were trying to figure out who should intervene. I took the decision out of their hands.
I don’t even remember crossing the room. Bo and Shep yelled something at my back but I ignored them. Ariel’s dance partner was half a foot shorter than me with a pudgy belly that strained the buttons of his flannel shirt. I put a hard hand on his shoulder and drew him back.
“I think the lady said she’d rather play pool.”
His eyes were hooded and lacked focus as he lifted his chin. I don’t know what he expected to see. Ariel had come here with a bunch of boys from her crew. This guy thought he’d be dealing with one of them. His head was unsteady as if it were made of rubber as he lifted it to meet my eyes. When he did, he took a faltering step backward.
One look was all it took. Rubberneck’s eyes widened and he pulled his hands off Ariel as if she’d suddenly become radioactive. As far as I was concerned, to this guy, she had. He took in my size. His buzz wore off enough for him to appreciate the patch I wore along with it. When his eyes flicked to the wall and he saw Shep, Deacon, and Maddox, I almost felt sorry for the creep. Almost. He tripped over himself trying to get away from Ariel.
“Hey, man,” he said. “We was just dancing.”
Startled, Ariel looked from me to Rubberneck and back again. Though I had my focus trained on Rubberneck, I heard Ariel’s sharp intake of breath. “Chase.” She uttered my name in a breathless whisper that sent a shiver of pleasure through me. In my heart, I knew it was the kind of sound she’d make if I touched her the way I wanted to.
“I think you’re done dancing,” I said, carefully taking my hand off Rubberneck. Chairs scraped across the floor as Ariel’s crew moved in closer. The gesture earned my respect. I wouldn’t waste my time laying my hands on this loser, but they didn’t know that. They’d be right to want to get her the hell away from the threat if the Dark Saints came here spoiling for a fight.
“Fuck this,” Rubberneck said. “This the kind of trash that gets your juices flowin’, honey? Pretty girl like you’s going to start getting a bad reputation.”
The smartest thing he could have done at that point was to turn and walk away. But Rubberneck wasn’t very smart after all. Instead, he looked Ariel up and down, leaving no doubt as to what he thought of her as he ran a fat finger across his lip.
“Fucking biker trash,” he said, then spat on the ground near my boot as he tried to stagger toward the door to the game room.
Gasps rounded the room and Bo’s chair hit the wall as he moved toward my side. Ariel’s face went white and she shook her head.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Mo Digby waddled into the game room wiping his hands on a towel. Mo was big and beefy with a bald head that had three rolls of fat in the back. I don’t think I’d ever seen him move that fast. “Dom, Maddox, come on, men.”
I held my hands out, palms up. “We good, Mo,” I said. “That is, if this shitheel is planning on leaving.”
“Fletch, come on. Let’s call you a cab,” Mo said to Rubberneck. He put a hand on his shoulder and tried to pull him away. Fletch kept the sour expression on his face and puffed out his chest, but fear lit his eyes. I suspected his buzz had worn off considerably over the last few seconds.
Mo put his three-hundred-pound frame between Fletch and my boys. I wasn’t looking to tear up Digby’s, but it was fine if Fletch didn’t realize that. He let Mo lead him away. Ariel pressed her backside against the pool table.
The rest of her crew came around her. There was a part of me that could look back and laugh. These were young kids, mostly. Twenty-one, twenty-two years old, tops. I knew she had even younger kids working on her demo crew too. She’d probably decided to join them tonight as a rarity. Now I could see their wheels turning. They didn’t know whether they were about to have to take on a few Saints for her or not.
“Chase,” Ariel said again, more forcefully. She was unsteady on her feet. Though I could appreciate the protective way the five Gatling crew boys stood around her, I still wanted to bash their faces in. They’d let her have too much to drink in a place like Digby’s.
“Nolan.” Ariel cleared her throat. She closed one eye and pointed around her. “Nick, Kyle, Zack, Freddy, Anderson. This is, uh, Chase Cutter. We met when he, uh, had some interest in the Hutchins Street property.”
All six of her young crew members seemed to exhale at once. There were some good-natured slaps on the back and handshakes all around. Maddox, Shep, and Deacon were holding back laughs. I knew what Bo was thinking. He would have liked to let these boys stay scared for just a little while longer. He was in a sporting mood tonight.
“Next round’s on me,” I said as I reached for Nolan, the birthday boy’s hand. He kept his firm, which I liked, but he let his gaze fall to the floor, which I didn’t. But I knew kids like him. These were north-side boys. Nolan actually looked a little familiar. When he said his last name ... Trainor ... almost as an afterthought I realized why. I’d hung around with Nolan’s older brother Dean before my mom died. Last I heard, Dean Trainor had OD’d a few years back.
Ariel’s crew and mine bullshitted for a while over the next two pitchers of beer. I put a hand on Ariel’s back and led her to a table in the corner of the bar.
“Thanks,” she said. I didn’t like the way her eyes went in and out of focus. “But I could have handled myself.”
When the waitress came back with another pitcher and two frosted mugs I waved her off. Ariel already had plenty, and now I wanted to stay sharp.
“I’ll bet you could. You don’t drink much, do you?” At the small round top near the table where she’d played, I just saw four shot glasses and a half-empty beer mug.
“Nolan’s twenty-one tonight,” she said, confirming my guess. “You have to do tequila shots when you’re twenty-one.”
“Right,” I said waving another waitress away as she came to us with a tray of jello shots. Ariel giggled and tried to reach for one. Shit. She was downright hammered.
The Gatling crew got a little more raucous near the pool table. None of them waved off the jello shots. After a few more minutes, the volume in the bar raised as they whooped and hollered. Maddox, Bo, Deacon, and Shep had moved on. They’d found a table of single women and were making quick time. Bo caught m
y attention over Ariel’s head and gestured. I gave him a subtle thumbs up. We’d all find our way back home or to the clubhouse. Shep was already walking out of the bar with his arm draped around a stacked brunette. Oh yeah, Digby’s was a notorious fucking meat market.
I could barely see through white rage bubbling inside of me. Ariel didn’t belong in a place like this. Her crew was all a bunch of lightweight kids. I had to focus on keeping my temper down. Bunch of stupid boys, really. What exactly were they going to do if someone more dangerous than Fletch had made a move on their boss?
“You ready?” Nolan staggered over to our table. He draped an arm around Ariel and put his hand out to mine to shake it again.
“It’s my fault,” Ariel said, damn near reading my mind. “I was supposed to be the designated driver.”
I let out a hard breath. “Well, then I guess it’s lucky I found you when I did.” I looked over her head. Mo was at the bar and he caught my eye. I made a circular gesture with my finger toward Ariel’s crew. Mo nodded and pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket.
“Mo’s going to make sure they all get home safe.”
Ariel reached back and gave Nolan a chaste kiss on the cheek. “You hear that? Party’s over.” She messed up his hair and pushed him away. Nolan nearly keeled over.
“I’ve got this one.” A cute little waitress came over and slid under Nolan’s arm. Damn. The kid was going to have a happy birthday, it seemed.
“What about you, boss?” Nolan asked. It seemed a little beside the point in his current condition, but I guess I should appreciate the fact that he tried.
“I’ll make sure she gets home all right,” I said, my blood pumping. I hadn’t planned it. Hell, the smarter thing to do would have been to call Ariel a cab myself and then slip away. But there was no way in hell I was going to let this woman out of my sight in a place like this as drunk as she was.
Fire lit Ariel’s eyes as she heard me say it. Her mouth opened in a sexy little ‘o’. She gripped the table top and looked at Nolan. The waitress had her hooks into him, leading him toward the back door.
It was just the two of us.
“Come on,” I said. “I wasn’t kidding. I’ll make sure you get home safe. I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“You don’t very often, do you?” she asked.
“No.”
I slid off my stool and held a hand out to Ariel. She hesitated before taking it. When she did, the heat between us had weight. She rose slowly, flicking those pale green eyes toward the pool tables. It was just the two of us now. Mo had rounded up the rest of her crew.
I slid a hand to the small of Ariel’s back. A tiny pulse fluttered near her temple and she blinked fast when my breath caressed her cheek. When she made a move toward the front of the game room, I steered her in the other direction.
“Chase?” she asked, her voice light, cautious.
“This way,” I said.
She swallowed hard. I kept a firm but gentle grip on her arm as I led her to the back door. As a courtesy to Mo, we’d parked our bikes in the alley. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Saints in his bar. But there were some people in this town who would drive right on by if they saw more than a few of us in any one place.
Full dark had fallen when we stepped into the alley. The nearest street lamp was broken. Unable to see in the dark, Ariel stumbled. I was there to catch her.
“Take it easy,” I said. “I got you.”
Ariel stiffened. She straightened her back and drew in a hard breath. “You can see in the dark? What other powers do you have, Chase Cutter?”
Laughing, I took her hand again and led her to the end of the alley where the next street lamp burned brighter. “I live in the dark, baby.”
Her laugh came out like a snort. She was more careful with her steps as we made the short walk down the sidewalk where my Harley was parked. Ariel slid her hand from mine and pressed her palm against the black leather seat.
“You think I’m going to get on the back of this thing with you?”
It got hard to breathe. Hell, it got hard to think straight. My pulse pounded in my ears. Ariel was so damn close. I could see her breasts hitch as her breath came up short. The idea of getting close to her made my jeans tight and stars swim in front of my eyes.
I wanted this woman. Plain and simple. She was probably too good for me. She’d probably been told all her life to stay the hell away from guys like me. She would have been smart to heed that advice. But there she was. Rather than running, she turned to face me. Her little tongue darted out, wetting her bottom lip.
“I told you,” I said. “I mean to see you home safe. Your boys in there weren’t up to the job.”
Her eyes held a question. What happens when we get there? I closed the distance between us. Ariel’s eyes went up and up. She sucked in a breath when I put my arm around her back. Fuck. Something dark and dirty flashed behind my eyes. I could take her here. Now. We were all alone back here with the alley shielding us.
Ariel put her hands up; her fingers twitched as she decided something for herself. She was still drunk. With any other woman, I don’t know if that would have mattered. If she were Wendy or Ashley or any of the dozens of banger chicks I had on the regular, I’d already have her bent over the seat of my Harley and buried balls deep.
But Ariel was different. She was special. This was a rare woman in front of me. Smart. Fierce. Strong. The alcohol had made her bold. Oh, I wanted her. But I wanted the real Ariel. I wanted her eyes wide open.
Ariel let her fingers trail along my bicep. When I flexed, her eyes went wide. “You’re so big,” she whispered. I had to bite back a chuckle. This was the alcohol talking, mostly. Sober, Ariel would be more guarded. I pulled the helmet off the back of my bike and handed it to her.
“Where are we going, baby?” I asked.
Her lids fluttered. Her naughty smirk nearly undid me. She swayed on her feet. I guided her hands and put the helmet on. The visor fell down and I lifted it. The thing was too big for her and I knew she could barely see. Again, she’d have to trust me. I lifted her easily at the waist. Ariel gasped as I seated her on the bike.
I mounted in front of her. Ariel hesitated, then she settled into it, wrapping her arms around my waist. She gave a little sigh as she pressed her head against my back. I revved the engine as she revved mine.
“Mulberry Street,” she shouted over the noise.
Nodding, I let out the throttle. I let the machine kick a little harder, loving the way Ariel tightened her grip around me.
Oh yeah, tonight this woman was mine if I wanted her.
Chapter 8
Ariel
I was drunk when I left the bar with Chase and climbed on the back of that Harley. As we flew down the winding streets of downtown Port Azrael, my head started to clear.
Chase had to know this town like the back of his hand. He’d lived and rode here his whole life. Of course he knew the shortest distance between Digby’s and Mulberry Street. But that’s not the route he took. Instead, he hit the coastal highway. The lights from the Port Azrael Bridge beckoned us, going from pink to gold to green and back again.
My heart raced along with the Harley’s powerful engine as Chase weaved effortlessly through traffic. When we hit the bridge, it felt like flying. The bay waters churned below, lit by the bridge itself.
I’d lived here my whole life too. But that night, it felt like I was seeing Port Azrael for the very first time. I saw it through Chase’s eyes. Headlights whizzed by and hot air filled my lungs. Chase made sharp turns, making me squeeze my thighs and tighten my grip around his waist. He was rock solid beneath my touch, warm and strong.
He’d been that way at Digby’s too. Though the edges of my mind were fuzzy from the tequila, Chase had swooped down with the fury of an avalanche when Fletch got too handsy. I could have handled him, probably, but the fire in Chase’s eyes had taken my breath away. That fire had burned for me. There could be no mistake.
I squealed with delight as Chase took a sharp curve. The rumble of the Harley’s powerful engine vibrated between my thighs. Chase’s gripped the seat like solid hunks of marble. The bike was part of him. He made tiny corrections weaving back and forth, effortless. As fast as we were going, I knew he was holding back, once again, trying to protect me.
Finally, he made the turn north. My heart sank as we left the warm breeze of the Gulf behind. It was quiet on Mulberry Street as he slowed the bike to nearly a crawl. I slid my hand between his arm and pointed down the street. I needn’t have bothered. My house was the nicest one on the block, the landscaping impeccable. Pink magnolias waved in the wooden flower boxes beneath the window.
When Chase pulled into the driveway and cut the engine, time seemed to stand still. The magic of the fast ride hung in the air and I didn’t want to break it. My heart pounded behind my rib cage and it got hard to breathe.
Chase moved first. He threw an agile leg over the side and turned to me. He held his leather-gloved hand out to me. My eyes were hidden behind the visor. It let me steal one last moment to myself where I could take him in. Chase Cutter loomed before me all muscle, ink, and predatory grace.
I wanted him.
The moment I let the thought form into a sentence, it became thunderously true. My belly still burned from the alcohol, but there was something else going on as well.
This man was everything I shouldn’t want. I’d seen the violence he brought with him firsthand. Fletch and the other patrons in that bar knew what he was too. People in Port Azrael cut men like Chase Cutter a wide path. His brand of dark danger was the very thing I tried to drive out of my life. And yet, there I was, drawn into his orbit.
I climbed off the bike, trying not to sway on my feet. My head spun. Sucking in a great breath of air, I mustered the courage to peel off his helmet and let his eyes lock with mine. Chase stood tall and straight, the hint of a smirk lifting the corner of his full mouth. My porch light caught in his eyes, giving them a devilish twinkle.
